Consultant is a Noun not a Verb
by govgal
Summary: Peter deals with Neal's betrayal and gives him a lesson in English with surprising consequences.
1. Chapter 1

**Consultant is a Noun, not a Verb**

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

A/N: So, as usual, this was a random idea that crept unsolicited into my brain and I thought it was interesting. This happens after "Point Blank" but also refers to Peter and Neal's discussion in "Company Man" about justice and revenge. It got me thinking, and somehow my brain came up with this, not the usual Peter & Neal banter. I'm interested in seeing how Peter handles Neal's betrayal and I'm NOT happy I have to wait until January…even Christmas is closer! Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

**Chapter 1**

Neal sat in the waiting room at the hospital that Mozzie had been brought to; grateful that some bystanders had actually bothered to call 911. His friend was still alive, but it was touch and go. The events of the last several days were replaying in his head, and he was wondering how he could have done things differently; how he could have prevented Mozzie from getting shot.

"Neal, let's go!"

Neal looked up to see Peter standing there with a really annoyed look on his face.

"I want to stay. I need to stay…it's…it's Mozzie."

"There's nothing you can do right now Neal, I've posted a guard at his room door. I'm hoping he's safe for now. You and I need to talk; the rules have changed."

Neal had been afraid this would happen. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Peter was furious with him, but he was afraid it might even be worse than he thought. Neither Peter or Neal spoke on the way to the FBI offices; Peter was far too angry to say anything remotely professional, and Neal was far too involved in thinking what Peter might have in store for him. He wasn't coming up with anything positive, and feared that Peter might actually have him sent back to jail and tell them to throw away the key; even worse Neal realized he actually deserved it.

##

Neal sat uncomfortably in his normal chair in Peter's office. Peter was typing something on his computer and had told Neal to sit down and shut up until he was ready to speak. He finally turned his attention to Neal, who could see a look of anger mixed with betrayal in Peter's eyes.

"Let's get a few things clear here, shall we?"

Neal didn't bother to respond. He was sure Peter meant it as a rhetorical question and wasn't expecting an answer.

"Our agreement states that you are released into my custody to be a consultant for the FBI."

"I thought we were partners, Peter."

"That would be an incorrect assumption."

"You are a consultant, also known as a CI or criminal informant. I've even looked up the definition of consultant for you."

Peter turned his computer screen so that Neal could look as well.

"Consultant. Noun. A person who gives professional or expert advice. Consultant is a noun - NOT a verb. A consultant's job is to give advice…no lying, no evading, no action sequences. Do I make myself clear?"

"I'm not sure if that was a rhetorical question or not."

"Let me start somewhere simple so that you can understand…how much high school did you actually have?"

Peter knew that was a low blow, and wasn't surprised that Neal didn't respond. His face was actually showing regret, but Peter didn't really care.

"You are a consultant…a CI; a criminal informant. Informant is a noun and criminal is an adjective that describes the noun. You are the noun. A noun can also be a subject of a sentence. _The criminal informant betrayed the FBI Agent_. In this sentence informant is the subject/noun, and criminal is the adjective describing the noun; betrayed is the verb within the predicate which implies the action taken by the noun or you."

Peter clicked with his mouse to bring up another webpage.

"The definition of betray is 'to deceive, misguide, corrupt…to disappoint…"

Peter gave Neal a decidedly angry look, and Neal simply pulled his fedora lower hoping like a little child that if they couldn't see someone it meant the other person couldn't see you either. Unfortunately for Neal that wasn't the case and Peter angrily continued.

"The FBI Agent is also a noun that describes who or what the verb is referring to…also known as the object of the sentence. The FBI Agent in this sentence would be me."

Peter paused to look at Neal to see if he was even bothering to listen, but it was difficult to tell, the fedora was still pulled low.

"The only verb you ever need to be concerned with is 'advise' or any of its other conjugations. No other verbs regarding negative actions are to be used in conjunction with the nouns consultant or informant. Let me use it in a sentence for you. _The criminal informant advises the FBI Agent on cases of record._ The subject is informant and the verb is advises in the present tense. The question becomes '_Who_ does the criminal informant advise?' The answer would be the FBI Agent. Next question… '_What_ does the criminal informant advise on?'…Answer: the prepositional phrases 'on cases' and 'of record.' Nothing more, nothing less. This is the only function of the criminal informant unless specified by the FBI Agent. Understand?

Peter looked up to make sure Neal understood. Neal nodded grudgingly.

"Do you remember our discussion on justice and revenge?"

"Yeah."

"There is a right way to do things and a wrong way to do things. I trusted you to save Kent because it was the right thing to do; letting him die would have been revenge…not justice because you had a chance to save him. I want you to remember this: justice is a noun, and revenge is a verb."

"Yeah, and it's a bad verb and not a good verb."

Peter knew Neal was being sarcastic, but at least he had gotten the point.

"Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal."

"Now, because of your shenanigans, I am going to enforce some new rules. I will not be asking for your opinion or advice on them. I'm sorry it has come to this, but you give me no choice."

"If you're sorry, am I allowed to be sorry?"

"Do you even know what you are sorry for?"

"Would it give me any brownie points?"

"Neal, I don't think you even begin to understand the gravity of the situation here. I have made a list of some of the things that you've done just this past week. These cannot be ignored or swept under the rug as 'past crimes.' Neal, you have proved that this is who you are, and you are not interested in changing."

"Ask Elizabeth, Peter. She can tell you I have changed."

"You are to leave my wife out of this. Now, would you care to guess what I have listed on my computer screen of the incidents that have occurred this week?"

"Does it really matter? Would I be in any less trouble?"

"If you truly want to change, the first step is admitting you are wrong and coming to terms with what you did. I'm not sure you're ready to do that. Your credibility with me has been destroyed…I thought I could trust you and I was wrong. I'm not sure if or when it can be rebuilt. Rome wasn't built in a day."

Peter paused, a slow smile coming onto his face.

"Here's an idea. I think we are going to play a game. You say you are sorry, and want to change…maybe this will help. To show that I'm not completely heartless for every answer you get right you will get one brownie point. If you get to 5 brownie points I will invite you over for dinner with myself and Elizabeth."

Neal looked up and adjusted his fedora so that he could directly look at Peter.

"That's not much of a prize."

"You were the one interested in brownie points. Now…You are to tell me the things you have done wrong in the last couple of days, and identify the subject, verb and object. Are you ready to begin?"

"Could you give me a hint?"

"Don't play dumb Neal. You told me you want to change. Here's your chance."

"What about confessed? That's a verb. Doesn't that mean I'm not allowed to confess?"

"We are talking about verbs that describe what you have done wrong. 'Confess' would be a verb that would describe you doing something right and is always encouraged."

"Fine."

Neal dropped his head and mumbled.

"I'm sorry Neal, I couldn't hear you. Would you please repeat that?"

"I said I might have borrowed a gun."

"I think stole would be a more operative term. You had it in your hand, we know where it came from and you didn't buy it. I know this is difficult for you but please continue. What's the subject, verb and object?"

"'I' is the subject or noun, 'borrowed' is the verb, and the object is 'gun.'"

"What is the only verb a criminal informant needs to be concerned with while on the job?"

"Advised, Advises, will be Advising."

"Past, Present and Future; very impressive. So, no more borrowing or stealing. One brownie point for you. List the next infraction."

"I unlocked my anklet."

"Good. Describe."

"'I' is the subject…'unlocked' is the verb…'anklet' is the object."

"Is 'unlocked' the approved positive verb for a criminal consultant?"

"No."

"Excellent…no more unlocking. Two brownie points. Continue."

"I disobeyed a direct order from you… 'I' is the subject…'disobeyed' is the verb… 'direct order' is the object. No, disobeyed is not the same as advised."

"See, you're a quick learner. You are up to three brownie points…anything else?"

"I fired the gun at Fowler because I wanted to kill him?"

"A longer sentence, but ok. Break it down."

" 'I' is the subject, 'fired' is the verb, object is 'gun'…What's Fowler again? Is there an English term for scumbag?"

"The phrase 'at Fowler,' would be a preposition phrase describing _who_ you fired the gun at. 'because I wanted to kill him' is also a preposition phrase describing why the gun was fired, although it could be broken down farther…but you get the point. Keep going…you only need one more."

Neal was trying to determine if he should say anymore. He wanted to have dinner with Peter and Elizabeth, but was afraid that the new rules might include going back to prison, so he didn't really want to pass up the opportunity. On the other hand, he knew that the things he had just confessed to Peter he already knew, and he wasn't so sure about this one, although he thought Peter suspected.

"I may have misappropriated FBI resources."

"Yeah, I was pretty sure that was you. Did you fake the silver cat burglar file?"

" 'I' is the subject, 'misappropriated' is the verb, and 'FBI resources' is the object."

"Impressive. Five brownie points. We will have you over for dinner, time permitting."

"I win, so now what."

"Now you are well on your way to becoming a useful contributing member of society…but still a criminal informant with five brownie points."

"You're still mad?"

"I told you, the rules have changed. Just because you admit something doesn't make it go away, there are still consequences."

"After all this you're still sending me back to jail?"

"I didn't say that. From now on and for an undetermined period of time - set by me - these are the following conditions which are non-negotiable.

_1) You are under house arrest. You will stay in your apartment and work on cases delivered by me. The work you have completed with be picked up by me in the evening. You will not come into the FBI offices unless you are specifically requested, and I will pick you up to prevent any detours. Any groceries or dried goods will need to be delivered or requested through June or myself._

_2) You will refer to me as "Agent Burke" or "Sir" and you will respond to "Caffrey." We are no longer on a first name basis. _

_3) Your cell phone will be tapped and all calls will be monitored. You are not to call my wife under any circumstances for any type of favor unless specifically approved by me. I will set the time for dinner, and I will pick you up. You do not get to choose the menu._

_4) You will be allowed to visit Mozzie once per week as my schedule permits. You are not allowed to visit him unsupervised._

"You can't be serious, Peter."

"Any violation of these rules will require one week in jail, for the purposes of showing you I am serious about this situation. You disobeyed a direct order, interfered in an FBI investigation and nearly killed a man. I'm very serious Caffrey. This will continue for an undetermined period of time until I think you actually have learned your lesson. Undercover operations will be discussed and possibilities may arise that will warrant your assistance beyond just advice."

Peter stood up and motioned to the door.

"Any questions?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Consultant is a Noun, not a Verb**

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

A/N: completely understandable that some of you thought I was harsh, but hopefully this chapter will clarify a few points, and has Elle's usual sensibility. No, I don't think Peter would do this, but I also didn't think Mozzie would get shot either, but hey, what do I know…As usual, enjoy and please review!

**Chapter 2**

_3 weeks later…_

Peter climbed the stairs and knocked on the door to Neal's apartment. He didn't wait long before the door slowly opened and Neal was standing in front of him. Peter noticed how pale Neal looked; he wasn't sure why he hadn't noticed it before…he had seen him almost every day.

"Are you ok? Have you lost weight?"

"I don't have an obsession with weighing myself, and I'm sure it would be on your list of bad verbs. Here's your files."

Neal thrust the files at Peter's chest and slammed the door in his face; this had become a usual occurrence and Peter was accustomed to it by now. Tonight though he really needed to talk to Neal; he knocked again.

"Ne…"

Peter caught himself and groaned. He probably hated this as much as Neal did. It was not working out like he had hoped, but what else was he supposed to do with a spoiled rotten adult/ child who refused to listen to authority and was constantly getting himself and Peter in trouble? He thanked God for the thousandth time that he and Elle did not have kids. He had his hands full enough with Neal. He had fought so hard to keep him out of prison with Hughes chewing him up and down for trusting Neal.

"Caffrey…please open the door…I need to talk to you."

Peter was sure that Neal heard him, but he wasn't so sure that the door would actually open. He had to wait a full minute before the door creaked open.

"What can I help you with Agent Burke?"

Peter grimaced at the resignation that he heard in Neal's voice.

"I was going to invite you to dinner tomorrow night. I've been so busy, Elle has been out of town, and it's just been crazy. I wanted to keep my end of the deal and have you over. I told Elle and she wants to make steaks and apple pie. Shall I pick you up around 6 p.m.?"

"That's fine."

Peter turned to leave, but then changed his mind.

"Are you sure you're ok? Did you need me to get you anything?"

"As if you care."

Peter was trying to figure out what Neal's tone was. It wasn't hatred, but more resigned as if he had already accepted that Peter didn't care, and was merely pointing that fact out to Peter.

"Caffrey, if I didn't care I wouldn't have grounded you in an adult way. This is for your benefit."

Peter tried hard not to sound angry. He really didn't want to fight with Neal, and he was too tired to intellectually spar with him.

"How very adult of you."

"If you want to go back to prison, I can arrange that, but I don't want to. We just have to let things cool down some more, ok? I cannot have you in the office right now. You are a liability because we haven't found Kate's killer yet, and that means you will be unpredictable. You are in danger and I don't want you getting hurt."

"I'm sorry I let you down Agent Burke. I will see you tomorrow."

Peter couldn't decide which was worse; the look of absolute loathing or the look of utter defeat that was now gracing Neal's features. Peter felt absolutely horrible about the whole situation; perhaps he had been too harsh, but Hughes hadn't left much wiggle room. Neal closed the door, and Peter realized that for the first time it wasn't slammed in his face.

##

Peter and Neal arrived for dinner just as Elle was putting the steaks on the table.

"Just in time honey…Hi Neal…so good to see you!"

Fortunately, Elle set the plate down before she looked up, otherwise she would have dropped it.

"Peter! What did you do to him? He looks like you've worked him to death."

"I have not."

Elle realized that something was terribly wrong, but didn't think Neal would say anything with Peter standing there so she tried to distract her husband.

"Honey, would you please get the salad and dressings out of the fridge?"

Peter didn't look too thrilled but walked toward the kitchen anyway. Elle walked over to Neal and gave him a hug. She was horrified at how much of his spine she could feel. She felt like she was hugging a skeleton and was afraid she was hurting him. He didn't pull away, and her feminine instincts told her he really needed to be hugged.

She finally let go and looked up into two blue green shiny pools filling with water. She didn't say a word and just reached forward pulling him into another warm embrace hoping he was able to draw encouragement and strength from her simply by osmosis.

She heard Peter set the salad bowl and dressings on the table. She let go of Neal and grabbed his hand pulling him over to the table.

"Why don't you sit here."

Once they were all seated, Peter said grace and then Elle passed the steak to Neal first.

"We need to get some meat back on your bones since Peter is obviously not feeding you well enough at the office."

Neal shot a questioning look at Peter who looked very uncomfortable. Elle didn't miss the interaction.

"What am I missing? I know I've been gone a lot for the last three weeks, but something is definitely up with you two and it's not good. How is Mozzie?"

"I don't know."

Neal said it softly and regretfully as if he had failed his friend.

"What do you mean you don't know? When was the last time you were there?"

"I don't know. It's been a little while, at least a week I think. Agent Burke's been busy."

"I'm confused, Neal. The hospital is well within your two mile radius and why on earth are you referring to Peter as Agent Burke?"

Peter cleared his throat knowing he was going to have to interrupt this conversation and really wishing he didn't have to.

"Yeah, um…about that. Neal doesn't really have a two mile radius anymore and Hughes said Neal needs to see me as more of an authority figure."

"What are you talking about?"

"Hughes was adamant that Neal be sent back to prison and he was questioning my involvement in the whole affair. I was fortunate that I was able to convince him to agree to house arrest instead of prison. It could have been worse."

"Worse? Have you looked at Neal, Peter? Really looked at him? He looks like he hasn't eaten in weeks! How could you?"

"Elle, that was the best I could do."

Elle looked over at Neal who had gone back to picking at his meal. It was no wonder he looked like a skeleton; he probably had no appetite and no one standing over him making him eat.

"Peter…in the kitchen…now!"

Peter grumbled but shoved his chair back and followed his wife into the kitchen. Elle leaned back against the counter and glared at him.

"Peter, you can't continue this…Neal can't take this much longer. He has to have social interaction - he needs it to survive. You are draining the life out of him."

"He's draining the life out of me."

"So that makes it all right?"

"Honey, we haven't found Kate's killer and that makes Neal unreliable. He has proven he can get out of the anklet. He conned me and the FBI, and he won't stop until he finds Kate's killer. He is safer away from the office."

"We need to do more for him, Peter, he is suffering alone; all by himself. Did you see him picking at his food? It's no wonder he looks like a skeleton! First things first, you are going to let him call you Peter again. Agent Burke is absolutely ridiculous. If you want to insist he use it in Hughes' presence…fine. Second, how could you keep him from seeing Mozzie? Mozzie is his best friend in the whole world! We have no idea what they've been through together. If you won't take him than I will; he _needs_ to see Mozzie. Arrange it with whomever you need as soon as possible."

"Absolutely not, Elle! It is a huge security risk. I will not put you in danger! Whoever shot Mozzie could well be planning to come back to finish the job. Neal's face was paused on the security feed, so I can only assume Neal is the next target; I don't want those two in the same room more than absolutely necessary. His life is in danger, whoever it is that shot Mozzie will not stop until Neal is dead too. I appreciate your concern for their friendship. I've tried to take him on different days so that it is not at all predictable, but I can't take him every day; this week just got busy. "

"Well clearly he's not safer at his apartment…just take a look at him and you'd see."

"I've had different agents there rotating all the time in different places outside of June's mansion."

"Are they making sure he eats? I don't think so. By the way, does Neal know this?"

"I'm sure he knows he's a target, but I don't think he knows about the security detail. I want him safe, but I also want him to know there are consequences; he has taken this too far. I can't trust him right now."

"You aren't giving him any reasons to trust you either."

"Why are you always so trusting Elle? Neal went rogue…he had Alex steal the music box…he stole the key to his anklet and a gun. He almost murdered Fowler. How am I supposed to trust anything he says?"

"Because this is about Kate and not you; you keep forgetting that. Peter, you need to imagine how you would feel if it was me that was murdered instead of Kate."

"I can't go there Elle."

"That's the problem! You can't have empathy for Neal unless you can truly feel what he's going through. I know you Peter…I know how much you love me and I know that you would have shot Fowler point blank without any regrets, and no one…I mean _no one_ would have been able to talk you out of it. Think about it…think about how much Neal trusted you to be able to turn away and not kill Fowler when it was screaming out of every pore in his body…and this is how you repay his trust? To him it looks like you were the one that betrayed him."

"That's not what it looks like to Hughes, ok? Our jobs were on the line. I had to do something or he would have gone back to prison for a long, long time."

"If you are absolutely positively insistent on this house arrest thing, then let him stay here where we can keep an eye on him and make sure he eats a decent meal. He needs companionship, Peter. We can help him through this, but I'm begging you, please tell him your side of the story – tell him all of it. He needs to hear it."

"I don't want you in harm's way, Elle! Whoever this guy is, he is willing to kill for the music box. I can't let that happen."

"You have the resources to protect me. That's what Neal was trying to do; protect Kate…and he couldn't. I want to help him, and so do you. Now go, tell him that he can stay."

Peter reluctantly left his wife and walked back into the dining room. His heart briefly skipped a beat as Neal wasn't sitting at the dining room table. He took a few more steps and noticed Neal stretched out on the couch, fast asleep. Peter reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and covered Neal with it. He quietly walked back to the kitchen to tell Elle what he had found. The apple pie would have to wait until later.


	3. Chapter 3

**Consultant is a Noun, not a Verb**

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

A/N: thanks to everyone who reviewed this story. Special thanks to Ultracape for the suggestions. I hope I did them justice… Anyway, please read, hopefully enjoy and review!

**Chapter 3**

Peter shook Neal gently trying to wake him; they had let him stay on the couch all night as they figured he needed his sleep and didn't want to disturb him. Elle had left breakfast on the table and Peter was hoping he could coax Neal into eating something.

"Hey, buddy. It's time to wake up, it's morning."

Neal shifted and groaned; his eyes slowly focusing on Peter.

"Where am I?"

"You're at my place. You fell asleep on the couch, remember? We had dinner last night."

"Oh…right."

Neal struggled to sit up, and then sat still for a few seconds trying to clear his head. He grabbed the edge of the couch trying to stand but wavered and sat back down.

"Easy there."

Peter reached out a hand to Neal's shoulder, and knelt to look in his eyes.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine. Elle left already, but she put breakfast on the table if you're ready. She set out some hot oatmeal with fruit, bagels and schmear."

"I'm really not hungry."

"Neal, you have got to be starving; let me help you to the table."

"Get your hands off me. I don't need your pity. Please take me home."

"Neal, you need to eat…you're clearly dizzy and you've lost weight…I think you are starving yourself to death and it needs to stop."

"Stop calling me Neal. You're the one who wanted it this way, so stop falling all over yourself trying to help now. It's too late."

"Too late? I own you lock, stock and barrel for the next three years…if you die all I'll have is a headstone, and they aren't helpful in solving cases!"

"It would be less annoying! All you owed me was dinner, and you couldn't even carry on a normal conversation, you left me and I had to eat by myself…some prize."

Neal paused, reflecting more to himself than Peter.

"Not that I was really hungry anyway."

"Neal, I'm sorry. I don't want us to be enemies. I want to be on a first name basis, but Hughes insists you show me more respect, and I can't blame him. I didn't do it because I wanted to. It's driving me crazy…I can't call you Caffrey anymore. It's what I called you when I was chasing you and I don't need to be reminded of that. You are a friend now…a friend who did something incredibly stupid, but still a friend. So, please call me Peter when we're not at the office, ok?"

"What if I don't want to?"

"Enough with the sarcasm. What you need is breakfast; try and stand up again."

Arguing with Peter had increased Neal's blood flow enough so he wasn't quite so dizzy. He was able to stand up on his own and make his way to the table; refusing assistance from Peter. Neal slowly took a few bites of the oatmeal with little bits of what appeared to be fresh peaches. He knew it should be delicious, but it tasted like gruel served to prisoners. He didn't think Peter would appreciate that thought though, but had no idea that Peter was watching his every move. Neal then reached for a bagel and spread some veggie cream cheese with the same care he would use if painting. Even after his careful preparation the bagel still tasted like cardboard and he didn't really enjoy it. He followed the bagel down with some milk hoping maybe it would wash the cardboard taste away.

Neal finally looked up and saw Peter staring at him with a concerned look on his face.

"What are you looking at?"

"I think you need a change of scenery. You're still under house arrest because that's the deal I made with Hughes to keep you out of prison, but Elle suggested you stay here so that she can make sure you eat; she thinks you've lost too much weight. You would at least have company if you stayed here instead of your apartment. Plus, I can keep my eyes on you…I'm sure you're the next target on this killer's hit list."

Peter looked to see what Neal thought of the idea, but Neal didn't respond.

"Would you like some more milk?"

"No, I'm fine. You were right…I betrayed you and undermined your trust in me. You have every right to be mad."

"But you stopped short of saying, 'It will never happen again.' Have you learned anything these last three weeks Neal? I got my butt royally chewed out by Hughes for 45 minutes straight for trusting you. He was going to throw you back in jail, and sometimes I wonder why I didn't let him. Why couldn't you just let us handle it? I showed you the file on the Semtex that Fowler bought because I wanted you to understand that we were working on it. I didn't expect you to try and kill him, but I guess I should have. How many times do I have to tell you…revenge is not the answer Neal."

"I thought it was justice OR revenge. I didn't get revenge, and I didn't get justice either."

"We will figure this out together Neal. I'm not abandoning the case; it's just more complex than it seemed at first."

"It would have been simple if you would have let me go…simple if you hadn't stopped me from running to Kate. It's your fault."

"I saved your life Neal; Kate was already dead…there was nothing you could do to save her."

"I bet you really like that verb. So noble, so honorable…you _saved_ me! Why? Why did you save me? Here's some more verbs for you…eat…live…breathe…are these acceptable verbs for a consultant? There's no point…no reason to do these things."

"Is that why you're starving yourself? I don't believe that Neal, this is some kind of con you are pulling…some other way to get vigilante justice so you don't have to call it revenge."

"As if I could pull off a con right now! I can't go anywhere, I can't do anything except read boring case files and I can't even have a private conversation."

"And why do you suppose that is? I CAN'T TRUST YOU! I swear if I find out you are pulling something I will throw you back in prison so fast you'll get whiplash."

"Here's one more verb for you because I don't think you're getting it Agent Burke…die. You should have let me die! I wanted to be with Kate; I would have died for her if I could. If I'm already a target then maybe I should just let them kill me…let them win. How many people have to die before you realize you can't _get_ justice? If I died would anyone care? Would anyone be fighting for justice for me? I'm nothing but a dishonest conman…a convicted criminal. Most people would say that my being dead _would_ be justice. No one would fight for me. There is _nothing_ the FBI can do to make this right. There is nothing _you_ can do to make this right."

As furious as Peter was with Neal, he really and truly felt sorry for the young man. The look in Neal's eyes was pure anguish. Peter was convinced there was almost nothing he could say or do to convince Neal that Kate's murderer and Mozzie's attempted murderer would be brought to justice, but he had to try.

"Neal, no matter what it takes we will get justice for Kate and Mozzie. I promise you."

"Don't make a promise you can't keep Agent Burke. Justice is about punishment. I got 4 years because I was convicted of forging bonds. Did Gless think that was justice? What is 4 years compared to his reputation? Before, I would never have even considered or cared what anyone thought of justice because I was smarter than they were and no one could catch me. They deserved it because they were inferior. Now someone has killed Kate and shot Mozzie and it's because of me! Do I deserve this kind of punishment as a form of justice for what I've done in my past? What if we can't find whoever is behind this? This person, whoever it is, has to first be caught and then convicted. Can we even link this to Mozzie's shooting? If we even get that far prison would be too good for this person; it doesn't matter how many years they get. Kate is never coming back. What if Mozzie never comes back? I want this person to suffer…I want them to die a slow horrible death, and justice _never_ allows for that!"

"Neal, we will find them…we will…I have to go to work."

Peter finished his bagel and slid his chair back from the table.

"Elle really wants you to stay here; she's extremely worried about you. She left you some clothes on the guest bed if you want to change. Just so you know there are agents posted outside for your protection; they are not just there just to make sure you don't run."

"Where would I go Agent Burke?"

"Are you really going to keep this up? Never mind. I don't want you to starve yourself today, please eat something."

"If you insist."

"There is plenty of food in the fridge. There are also some files on the mantle that I want you to review. I do appreciate your help greatly. This evening after work, if you decide you want to stay, we can drop by your place and pick up some things you'll need."

Neal looked up as Peter grabbed his suit coat and headed out the door.

"I accept your offer. Is that an acceptable verb?"

"Acceptable – yes, brownie point – no."


	4. Chapter 4

**Consultant is a Noun, not a Verb**

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

A/N: so I'm starting to realize a lot of this story could be OOC, but then you never know what will happen or how these events will change Neal's relationship with everyone. Oh, and clearly I'm not a medical professional nor will I ever be!

**Chapter 4**

Neal had taken a shower and changed into the sweats and t-shirt Elizabeth had left for him on the bed. The shower didn't revive him as much as he had hoped though, and he was sitting at the dining room table poring over the case files Peter had left him; desperately trying not to fall asleep. He thought he had tracked down some of the missing money in one of the cases, and was making sure there wasn't anything else he had missed. Satisfied that he knew how the crime had been committed, he decided to take a break and have lunch; he didn't want to have to directly lie to Peter. Neal pushed his chair back and stood up a little too quickly feeling dizzier than he had earlier when he woke up. Neal thought maybe he needed food even worse than he thought, so he took a couple steps toward the kitchen before the floor rose up to meet him.

##

Elle had decided going home for lunch would be a nice surprise for Neal and she could see how he was feeling. She had a few samples from an early morning meeting with a caterer she was hoping to get Neal to try. She turned her key in the lock and pushed the front door open.

"Neal? It's Elle. I decided to come home for lunch."

Elle didn't hear any response and thought it was strange.

"Neal?"

Elle's voice took on a more worried tone. Peter had told her Neal was in danger, but the front door had looked secure when she entered so she dismissed the idea. She walked toward the dining room table noting Neal had spread some case files out, but he wasn't sitting there. She took another step and looked toward the kitchen door and then spotted the figure lying on the floor. She quickly set her purse and the appetizers on the table before kneeling down beside him.

"Neal!"

Elle didn't see any blood and was trying to figure out what was wrong. She didn't see anything obviously wrong and carefully rolled Neal over on to his back.

"Neal? Neal, I need you to wake up."

She pushed back a dark lock of hair and felt his forehead; it did seem a bit warm, but she couldn't tell how high it was.

"Neal. It's Elle. What happened?"

She saw Neal's eyelids flicker open and then try to focus on her.

"Hey, it's ok. You're ok."

"Elle? What are you doing here?"

"I came home to have lunch and check on you. It looks like it's a good thing I did."

"I was trying to have lunch but then everything went black."

"Neal, I think something's wrong with you. Stay right there; don't move."

"Ok."

Elle noticed Neal really sounded sleepy. She walked back to the couch and grabbed one of the throw pillows and the blanket Neal had used earlier. She covered Neal with the blanket and gently slid the pillow under his head.

"Let me call Peter and see what he wants to do."

Elle dialed Peter's cell while going into the kitchen to get a drink of water.

"Hey, honey, what's up?"

"I came home for lunch and I found Neal passed out on the floor. I'm not sure if he fainted or what happened, but I think he needs to be checked out. He's awake now so I didn't call 911, but I think we need to do something Peter. He doesn't look so good and he's mumbling incoherently."

"Do not move him or take him anywhere Elle. This could be a setup. He's probably been planning this for weeks. He might try to charm you into taking him to the hospital and he's planning to escape."

"Peter! I know you two have trust issues right now, but I think he needs serious help! Something is wrong with him; he's not in any condition to escape!"

"Elle. Listen to me. Do not do anything until I get there. Ok?"

"Ok. I'll see you soon then. I love you. Bye."

Elle hung up the phone and looked over at Neal. He was staring vacantly at the ceiling, and didn't move when she knelt down beside him to help him into a sitting position leaning against the wall.

"Is there any way I can help you Neal?"

Neal just looked lost as if he wasn't sure what the answer should be.

"I don't know."

"It's ok. Peter will be here soon."

##

Neal was still leaning against the wall with his eyes closed when Peter arrived home. He wasn't sure if Neal realized he was there or not, but from the expression of exhaustion on Neal's face he was certain Elle was right; Neal was in no condition to escape. He quickly walked to the kitchen; suspecting his wife was in there. Elle turned around when she heard the door swing open.

"I'm so glad you're here. Doesn't Neal look terrible?"

"I'm sorry I was upset on the phone, I didn't realize it was this bad. I think you're right though, I need to take him in and make sure it's nothing serious."

"Do you need me to come?"

"No, I can handle it."

Peter walked back out to the dining room, and shook Neal's shoulder gently.

"Hey buddy. Can you grab my hand, so I can help you up? I think we're going to the doctor's. You don't look so good."

"Peter? What are you doing here? I'm fine. Just tired."

It occurred to Peter that Neal had either forgiven him which he didn't think was very likely; no it was more likely he was just so out of it he had forgotten he was still stubbornly calling him 'Agent Burke.'

"You never cease to amaze me. I come over here convinced you are conning my wife into taking you to the hospital only to come home to find out you are telling me you're fine when you are definitely not."

"Would you just let me sleep…please?"

"Nope. Not right now. We're going to Urgent Care."

Peter lifted one of Neal's arms and put it around his neck, struggling with Neal's almost dead weight to get him to stand. It took several minutes, but Peter managed to maneuver Neal out of the house and into the Taurus. When they reached the clinic it was fairly busy so Peter helped Neal into a chair and went to check him in. Neal looked like he was asleep when Peter finally came back, but his head jerked up as the chair squeaked when Peter sat down.

"You awake? Would you mind telling me what happened this morning?"

Neal looked around finally registering his surroundings.

"Are we at the hospital?"

"Good guess, Einstein. I see your brain isn't entirely mush yet. Elle found you lying on the floor when she came home for lunch."

"I was working on one of the cases. I think I found something. I'm sure I wrote it on the file, I just don't remember right now. I knew you would be mad if you found out I didn't eat anything, so I was going to make myself a sandwich. I don't remember eating it though."

"I don't think you made it to the kitchen, Neal. You were on the floor in the dining room."

Neal didn't respond immediately, but then Peter noticed how pale Neal had gotten.

"Peter? I need your help or I don't think I'll make it to the bathroom either. I need to throw up - now."

##

Neal looked up from the examining table as Dr. Nevins walked back in.

"We're still waiting on the blood tests to make sure it's not something worse, but as of right now it just looks like a case of malnutrition and dehydration. These usually manifest themselves in weight loss, lethargic behavior, weakening of the immune system, dizziness and fainting. You seem to be exhibiting all of these symptomos, Mr. Caffrey. It also looks like you might have a slight case of the stomach flu; in your state your immune system is not able to fight off the flu as well as it might otherwise."

Neal still looked a bit dazed, so Peter decided to query the doctor.

"So what can be done?"

"What I'd like to do is to use an IV drip for just a couple hours to replenish some necessary fluids and vitamins and minerals. He wouldn't need to be admitted and it would be considered an out-patient procedure. I will give you an eating plan we strongly encourage Mr. Caffrey to follow in order to maintain a more healthy weight. Unfortunately, many times this doesn't mean it solves the underlying problem though."

Peter thought he knew what the doctor was getting at, but he didn't want to question him more in front of Neal so he motioned for the doctor to follow him out of Neal's room.

"Are you talking about mental and emotional problems or physical problems?"

"In general, a lot of patients who stop eating and become malnourished have had an emotional trigger or stress point responsible for the dramatic change in behavior."

"Yes, well Neal definitely qualifies. His girlfriend was recently killed and his best friend is in a coma."

"Ahhh, Yes…that would be the kind of emotional trigger consistent with my diagnosis."

"Is there anything I can do for Neal?"

"Make sure he is eating several small meals every day…One big meal won't set well with his stomach. Foods like yogurt, biscuits and cheese & crackers are good to start out with, but I will get you a sample meal plan. Also, try and remove as much stress as possible. He should avoid crowds as they tend to be stressful, but you also don't want him to become isolated. Isolation can sometimes be the worst thing for people under this much stress."

Peter knew the doctor wasn't trying to make him feel guilty because there was no way Dr. Nevins could have known, but he felt it anyway. He could only hope that he and Elle could prevent any more self destructive behavior Neal had planned.

##

Neal was lying on a bed watching the liquid drip into the IV in his arm resisting the urge to pull it out. He didn't know why they bothered…it wasn't like it was going to increase his appetite or make him want to eat…cardboard was cardboard. A few more vitamins and minerals, or 'electrolytes' as the doctor called them, were not going to change anything in his opinion. As good as Elle's cooking was, he didn't think it would have any effect on his appetite; although he could imagine Elle standing over him refusing to move until he had consumed at least a serving of whatever she had thoughtfully prepared. Neal was sure Peter didn't care what he ate. He hadn't even noticed anything until recently and then Elle got involved and made the situation worse in Neal's opinion. He had been getting along just fine without their interference. Now, because of them, he was bored to death watching the IV fluid drip and drip. Instead of viewing the fluid as vital nutrients, Neal was envisioning them as his life draining out of him; wondering what would happen when the bag was empty.

##

Peter had stepped out of Neal's temporary room for a few minutes to make a phone call to Jones who was providing security outside Mozzie's room for the afternoon.

"Hey Boss! What's up?"

"I was just checking into see if there was any change in Mozzie's condition?"

"No. He's still in a coma."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I'm thinking of taking Neal to visit him this afternoon. I know this is really getting to him, and maybe just seeing Mozzie will help him."

"Sounds like a plan. I will expect you then."

Peter hung up the phone and returned to find a nurse taking the IV out of Neal's arm. He noticed Neal didn't look as thrilled as he would have thought to be rid of the IV; maybe he had missed something while he had stepped out.

"Is he all ready to go?"

"Yes. He's all set. Did Dr. Nevins give you the printout for the suggested eating plan?"

"Yes. My wife will be handling that aspect."

"Great. I know you'll be feeling better soon Mr. Caffrey."

The nurse quietly left the room and Peter realized Neal hadn't said a word since he had returned.

"Everything ok? We can go now."

"The bag is empty."

"The IV bag? Yes. It's empty, that's why we can leave now."

"Have you ever felt empty Peter?"

Peter realized this could possibly be very loaded question.

"I've felt sad and discouraged many times, but I can't say I've felt empty."

"What if there isn't any more? What if my life is draining away before my eyes and I can't stop it?"

Peter knew Neal was not talking about the IV fluid, but about losing Kate, possibly Mozzie, and even pieces of himself.

"Neal, the IV is there to help you…to refill you…to give you life. I know it feels like you have lost so much, but the IV doesn't symbolize what you've lost; it symbolizes what you have to gain."

"There is _nothing_ to gain Peter."

"Mozzie isn't dead yet Neal. I think we should go see him!"

Peter saw Neal's eyes light up slightly although it didn't reach down to fashion his mouth into a smile, but it was better than nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Consultant is a Noun, not a Verb**

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA network.**

A/N: Here's the final chapter for this story. This chapter is dedicated to my sister who is a HUGE Mozzie fan :) Sorry it took a bit. Job fair, interview, rejection, mental anguish, life…you get the picture.

**Chapter 5**

"Paranoia is a skill. Isn't that what you always say? I wish I'd have been more paranoid. I'm sorry Moz. This is my fault. I should have known they'd come after you."

Neal was sitting by Mozzie's hospital bed trying not to cry because his best friend was still in a coma; Mozzie was barely recognizable especially without his usual glasses. It was probably a good thing he wasn't awake because Neal didn't look like himself either and Mozzie would have freaked out with all the weight he had lost. Although Neal was tired and exhausted he was not about to miss spending time with Mozzie; the IV fluids from earlier had helped, but he still hadn't had a decent meal.

"Moz…I can't lose you too. It's not fair…it should have been me. They were after me and the music box. You have to wake up, Moz. I need something to live for. If you die…if you die it will be my fault. I can't solve this music box mystery without you. Peter doesn't trust me anymore, and I don't know if I trust him anymore. How could he have kept the music box and not told me? Now all the sudden he's worried about what I'm eating and how I'm doing after three weeks of ignoring me? How am I supposed to eat when my friends are dropping like flies and it's my fault?"

Neal looked down at Mozzie, hoping for a response to his rant, but knowing it was impossible.

"What am I supposed to do Moz? You're my legal counsel! You're supposed to tell me what to do. Funny how this works isn't it? You're supposed to give me legal advice and I'm supposed to give Peter criminal advice so he can figure out how to catch bad guys in a legal way. I feel like a middle man; this is a crazy world. Is this house arrest thing even legal? Don't answer that…not that you could because you're not awake…I know…you don't have to remind me…it's better than prison."

Neal reached for Mozzie's hand; he needed something tangible to hold onto. Neal realized it was hypocritical to ask Mozzie to fight when he didn't want to fight himself. He had been so lost in his own world surrounded by only the sounds of his apartment for so long without contact with anyone other than Peter. He had forgotten how much he needed human interaction; June had even stayed away. Neal figured it was probably because he was always slamming the door in Peter's face and she hadn't figured out a good way to approach him yet without setting him off; who knows what Peter had told her about him. He was really a wreck, and he knew he couldn't fix it himself. He needed Mozzie.

"Moz. I need you. I need your smiling face; your odd mannerisms. I need someone to share wine with; someone to misquote Ginsberg. I'm all alone. You know I don't do lonely well."

Neal looked up at the sound of a door opening.

"Neal?"

Neal let go of Mozzie's hand and turned to face Peter, who didn't miss the few tears still evident on Neal's face. Peter smiled with a compassionate look on his face.

"How's he doing?"

"I can't really tell, but the heart monitor is still beeping, so I'm guessing it's a good sign."

"Consider it hope Neal; hope that he'll get better. You need to believe he will; have faith. We will get through this Neal - all of us. There _is_ something to live for."

"Yeah, Yeah, I get it. Faith, Hope…Love."

"You said it. I didn't. Just because Kate is gone doesn't mean you have to stop loving her…she'll always be a part of you. She added a new dimension to your character, and you don't need to remove it. Mozzie is a part of you as well. All the people in your life give you new dimensions. Just because someone leaves or dies doesn't mean you have to lose that part of them. It's special…precious. You still have good memories. Cherish them! However, you can't keep living in the past Neal; you have to look to the future. You have us…myself and Elle, June, even Jones and Diana are worried about you. You are not alone, and Mozzie is still with us even if he can't communicate right now."

Neal was silent for a while. He couldn't forget the image burned into his brain of the empty IV bag…he still felt like the life was draining out of him, but now he was envisioning the swirl of a draining bathtub; he felt helpless against the current swirling around him. Peter was trying to throw him a life preserver before he was sucked under, but he wasn't sure if he should reach out and grab it. Still unsure if he should trust Peter after everything that had happened, Neal grabbed Mozzie's hand instead. He was stunned when he felt a slight pressure in return.

"Moz? Moz! It's Neal. I'm here! You're going to be fine."

Neal excitedly stood up not letting go of Mozzie's hand; more tears winding down his cheeks this time from sheer joy. He peered into Mozzie's face to see any flicker of change or recognition…there wasn't any. Mozzie's eyes remained closed and the heart monitor continued its monotonous beeping not indicating any change in heart rate. Neal wondered if he really was hallucinating; he could have sworn Mozzie squeezed his hand. Neal let go and turned to Peter.

"I swear Mozzie squeezed my hand Peter! Did you see anything?"

Peter hadn't noticed anything, but it was obvious from Neal's reaction that something had happened.

"Honestly Neal, I didn't see anything, but it's very likely he did squeeze your hand. You two have a special bond; he might be trying to tell you he's ok in the only way he can."

Neal cracked a smile that Peter hadn't seen in a long time – not the full megawatt smile but definitely a significant improvement. Maybe the squeeze of Mozzie's hand was all Neal needed to escape from his mental prison. Peter found it very ironic that Neal could escape from almost anything, including the maximum security prison, but he had been helplessly locked in a mental prison tormenting himself for Kate's death and Mozzie's shooting.

"Neal, I'm sorry, a few more minutes and then we have to go."

"It's ok Peter. I feel better already just visiting. You're right…I do need hope and faith he'll get better. Thank you."

"I told you. We'll get through this together. It's what families do."

Families…Neal still couldn't grasp the fact that Peter and Elle considered him to be part of their family even after what he did. Neal pondered the words from earlier…faith, hope and love…maybe that _is_ what a family does or at least is supposed to do. How had he ever gotten so lucky?

"Peter, could we stop by my place?"

"I was going to anyway so you can get some clothes. What else did you want?"

"I want my painting supplies. I want to paint…memories."

Neal noticed the confused look on Peter's face.

"What?"

"Am I allowed to paint? Is paint on your approved verb list? A consultant can paint…just not forge, right?"

Peter started to laugh then, the confusion gone.

"Yes, you can paint."

Neal turned back to Mozzie.

"Moz, I'm painting you first, and then Kate. I think I'll make her an angel to watch over you and me."

"That's a great idea. Neal Caffrey originals. I can't wait to see them!"

Peter chuckled as he followed Neal out the door. He knew that Neal wasn't himself yet, but he could see that Neal had crossed a major milestone on the path to recovery and was profoundly grateful.


End file.
